# 5. Death and the Boy
Led by Ashelad's hand, Daphne made her way toward his room.
"Oh dear, you must be so cold."
Watching Daphne shiver, the boy seemed lost in deep thought.
"How terrible."
Unlike Daphne, who was trembling so violently she looked as if she might faint at any moment, Ashelad was relaxed.
The cold night air was bitterly cold. The one mercy was that this place—Ashelad's room—was warm.
And yet, though warmth filled the air, there was something indescribably eerie about the place. Daphne standing tall in the clean room, and Ashelad seated, observing her—the scene had a strange quality to it.
But Daphne was too busy shivering, and too busy thinking about the boy before her, to consider his behavior.
She remembered this boy from when she first came to the imperial palace. And this boy—he might be her own older brother...
A voice and gaze brimming with all the goodwill in the world, and looks so beautiful she could never hope to match them.
She shared blood with someone that remarkable? Did they really think such a lie would pass? How absurd a falsehood must her mother have spoken? It was impossible that she and that person could share blood in the first place.
What would happen if he recognized her? He would surely rage at her, just as the Emperor had. As Daphne stood unable to even lift her head, Ashelad finally draped a blanket over her shoulders. She was overwhelmed with gratitude. As he wrapped the blanket around her himself, Ashelad's face drew close to hers.
"Why were you being tormented?"
"......"
"What is your name?"
At the boy's words, it was as if something were caught in her throat—she could say nothing.
"So you won't say anything."
At that tone, Daphne squeezed her eyes shut.
"Speak up! What are you waiting for!"
The attendant shouted. She shivered, clutching the blanket around her.
"Leon, I'm asking her a question."
Despite his young age, Ashelad was dignified. At his words, the attendant hastily bowed his head.
"Go on, tell me."
It didn't seem he would let her leave if she didn't give her name. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
"Daphne."
"......"
"Daphne. Daphne... I feel as though I've heard that name before."
Was it because her eye color was different? Or because she looked so much more wretched than she had back then? Ashelad did not recognize Daphne.
For an instant, the attendant made an odd expression, but she was staring at the boy's feet—at the beautiful sheen of his splendid leather shoes.
"I don't remember at all."
"......"
A voice tinged with laughter reached her ears.
"Daphne. Then why do people torment you?"
"......"
Daphne lifted her head weakly. If that person also learned the truth, would he change like the others? Or would he become cruel like the Emperor? She couldn't know. This warmth was desperately precious to her. But her mouth opened on its own.
"Mother told... a great lie."
"...
Did she, now?"
His eyes widened. Daphne dropped her gaze once more.
"So you suffered all this for your mother's sin alone?"
"Because Mother lied about me. I lied too. That is my sin."
As if in confession, she squeezed her eyes shut. One of his eyebrows arched in apparent surprise. The cold sneer disguised as goodwill vanished, and soon an expression of interest settled in his eyes.
"Lift your head, Daphne."
"......"
"From now on, I will have you work a few hours each day."
"I'm sorry? What do you—"
"Would anyone pass a mother's sins down to her child? Blaming you would be unjust."
Was it because of his straight eyebrows? Or because of his eyes, remarkably sharp for a boy's? He seemed righteous. Like a fair ruler.
"So don't worry too much, Daphne."
He bestowed his goodwill as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Just like the kindness he had shown when they first met.
* * *
From the day she caught Ashelad's eye, the overt torment ceased. Still, she continued to use the oldest room where mice ran to and fro, and the meals she was given were dreadful. Of course, the Emperor would occasionally gaze upon her sorry state, hurl insults, and sneer—but even so, hope took root in her hellish days.
After finishing all her tasks, she would wait in her drafty room for Ashelad's summons.
When his attendant rapped briskly on her door with a disapproving look, she would rise and follow him to his room.
"You've come."
People were always tense before the prince, but Daphne was different. Only in his presence could she finally relax.
Unlike the small-framed Daphne, Ashelad was rather broad-boned. He reclined in a chair by the fireplace, gazing up at Daphne with a languid expression. His face was breathtakingly handsome.
Unlike the dirty handful of a room where she curled up to sleep with the mice, this place was heaven.
"It seems you weren't tormented much today."
"No."
"I'm glad."
He gave a faint smile, then gestured with his eyes toward a book, motioning for her to come. Daphne beamed and opened the book. As she knelt on the plush carpet, she began to read aloud.
He leaned back in his chair with a relaxed expression, eyes closed, and rested his hand on the head of Daphne, who knelt at his feet.
His long fingers stroked her hair. Softly, gently. The fingers tickling her head felt wonderful.
Daphne truly loved these moments. This place was not cold, not a mold-covered filthy room. It always smelled lovely. And Ashelad always watched over her with a smile.
"Are you hungry? Eat while you work."
A cookie was offered to her lips. Daphne stared at the cookie held before her mouth. It smelled of sweet chocolate and nutty roasted flavor.
"Open up, ah."
Following Ashelad's lead, she parted her lips. Daphne ate it with a grateful look. A flicker of curiosity crossed Ashelad's eyes.
"Eat as much as you like."
The hand stroking her head remained soft and tender. It hid neither its blade-like chill nor its mockery—but she knew nothing of that.
"Kahahaha!"
At the sudden burst of laughter, Daphne startled and looked up. At the doorway, the Emperor stood laughing, his face flushed red.
"You're here, Father?"
Ashelad gave Daphne's head one last stroke and rose from his seat. Daphne thought foolishly.
Could it be—was Ashelad being scolded by the Emperor for saving her?
"You mad boy! That is truly a masterpiece, a masterpiece!"
But the Emperor was laughing heartily at something else.
* * *
"Sara, what is that hairpin?"
"My brother just gave it to me as a gift."
"Your brother really is so considerate."
When Daphne approached, the maids glared at her. Among them, only Sara tilted her head with a smile.
Daphne backed away and went to another area.
It had been seven years since she came to the imperial palace.
Daphne was growing up.
It was a world of isolation where no one approached her. Whenever someone kind appeared, they would either turn cold upon hearing 'that rumor' or simply vanish.
Even the animals she might have cherished were the same. As if they despised her very touch, the horses in the stable and the small birds she fed all died.
How lonely is a world with no one to love. The only one she could love was Ashelad.
He was always tender, always thoughtful.
Ashelad always pitied her circumstances. As if bound by an invisible thread, he never forgot her and always sought her out.
"Oppa."
Daphne murmured that unfamiliar word.
If she had an older brother, would he have been like Ashelad? Would he have given her a hairpin like that, just as Sara's brother did?
If she truly were His Majesty's child, perhaps Ashelad would have treated her so.
They would have been a splendid family. And then he would have punished those girls who tormented her, too.
Daphne thought of Ashelad. Her face flushed red.
As Ashelad grew, he had taken on the bearing of a man. Deep shadows now settled in his face of graceful lines. His body, formed of clean, straight lines, had become striking as well.
A breathtaking existence. Everyone looked up at him, revered him, loved him. It was only fitting. Ashelad, the noble bloodline—the Emperor's only child and legitimate heir—met everyone's expectations.
His gaze, growing steadily harder, had taken on a coldness bordering on arrogance, yet he was a gentleman. Contrary to the untouchable aura that always wafted from him, he was kind to women and children, and to those beneath them.
There was nothing he could not do. When everyone spoke of how elegant his dancing was, how beautiful his voice when reciting ceremonial texts, how dazzling his smile—Daphne would smile with petty superiority.
What fortune it was, to see him so closely. Daphne was the only one Ashelad permitted at his side.
Ashelad cherishes me. Ashelad loves me. He shows me kindness. He is special to me.
And yet... and yet, that was all there was.
Daphne chewed over rumors of who would become Ashelad's fiancée and fell into gloomy thoughts.
"Daphne!"
"......"
"Daphne?"
Daphne looked up at the person who had approached her. It was strange. No one ever spoke to her—they only mocked.
But when no one was around, this brown-haired man, Noel, would subtly show her kindness. Still, this was the first time he had addressed her like this.
"Daphne. Hand me that bucket."
When she held it out, puzzled, he took it from her. She remembered the maids saying Noel was kind.
"People are so cruel, aren't they?"
"......"
"Everyone... poor Daphne. Really, you are..."
Noel looked at her as if in pity. Daphne stared at the bucket he had taken. Regardless, he had shown her kindness.
"Thank you."
"...
So you can speak."
"Of course."
"I didn't know you could talk. Your voice is really lovely."
Noel looked at her with a bright smile. Daphne's cheeks flushed red. It was the first time anyone besides Ashelad had praised her. So she gave him a small smile.
A day like this—wasn't so bad. How wonderful would it be if every day were this full of fortune?
She watched Noel's retreating back.
Today felt like a good omen.
But when night fell, that hope was mercilessly shattered. Daphne's footsteps grew urgent. Knowing it was presumptuous, she rushed into the 'Crown Prince's' garden. It was a place where the moon shone clearly.
Everyone in the imperial palace was reciting mournful death prayers. When the sun set, the Empress had passed away. Ashelad's mother had died.
She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what comfort to offer. But all she knew was that she simply had to be a comfort to Ashelad.
As expected, Ashelad sat alone, gazing up at the sky.
Poor soul, wretched soul. I felt the same way when I lost my mother. Without realizing it, she knelt and sat before him.
"There you are."
Unlike the faint scent of cologne that always hung about Ashelad, there was a faintly briny smell. Contrary to her expectation that he would be crying, his face was dark, but he did not weep.
The moonlight seeped into his clear eyes.
"Um... Your Highness."
Daphne's voice trembled. Would even her comfort be a deception?
"You said you lost your mother too, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Was it this kind of feeling?"
He looked forlorn. The cold night wind tousled his fine brow.
"Tomorrow, my mother's funeral will begin. It will be busy."
"......"
"So you needn't come until the funeral is over."
Still considerate words, caring for Daphne. But he looked lonely and desolate. Daphne had treasured her own mother. Surely it was the same for Ashelad.
Daphne carefully placed her hand atop his.
"Your Highness."
"Hm?"
"I am here."
"......"
"When it's hard... I am..."
"My, my."
Ashelad looked at Daphne with wide eyes. For an instant, she felt a chilling sensation. But that emotion soon melted into the night air and faded. His long fingers brushed through Daphne's hair.
It was the beautiful face of a woman beginning to shed her girlishness. Her blue eyes were especially charming.
"Ugh!"
His hand seized her hair and yanked.
"Sorry. Did that hurt?"
He said it with a slight smile.
"Yes, Daphne. You need only stay by my side, always."
"...
Yes."
"Come when I call you, go when I send you."
Ashelad lifted her chin. This Ashelad was slightly frightening. As he brushed the tears from Daphne's face, Ashelad spoke beautifully.
"Stay by my side like this, for the rest of your life."
When she nodded once more, he smiled in satisfaction. Ashelad stared intently at Daphne's face, then lifted the corners of his mouth.
"So you are mine alone. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes."
The words came out without any resistance. As if brainwashed, mechanical. He brought his face close to Daphne's upturned one. She flinched in surprise. Lips soft as velvet touched her cheek.
When she recoiled in shock, Ashelad chuckled.
"Go on."
She fled, her face burning like a boiled beet. Watching her retreating figure, Ashelad chuckled softly. He placed his hand on the cheek where his lips had touched.
"Ah. It was hard to hold back."
Ashelad said, turning around. Someone's legs protruded from beneath a tree. Ashelad approached the spot with an indifferent expression. Beneath the tree lay a bloodied corpse. The brown-haired young man, Noel, was dead, his eyes bulging open.
"Whether to show her this, or not."
Ashelad kicked the hand with his foot—the hand that had touched Daphne's. Unable to bear it any longer, he picked up the sword planted in the ground. The blade, tracing a cold arc, severed the wrist in a single stroke.
There was no grief. Only rage. A strange displeasure. He could only remember those blue eyes of that wretched little girl, trembling with joy.
"How irritating."
Ashelad murmured through gritted teeth. On the night his mother died, Ashelad murdered a male servant with his own hands.